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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552708">A Cut Too Deep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARtistic_Nacho/pseuds/ARtistic_Nacho'>ARtistic_Nacho</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment, Abuse, Angst, Anorexia, Bad Puns, Eating Disorder, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It's Pretty Dark At First, Just Dark Themes In General, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:54:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARtistic_Nacho/pseuds/ARtistic_Nacho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You never wanted to end up like this. Stuck in a small apartment, away from your family, and left to rot with your abusive boyfriend. But, here you are, sobbing on the floor as you contemplate your reasons behind your love.</p><p>   Reader! Stay determined! For, two years back, monsters left the underground despite you not knowing. When your boyfriend decides to take you out, you might have your once in a lifetime chance to leave! Let's hope a few skeletons can help you with that.<br/>Hello everyone! I've decided to start an Undertale fanfiction I've been dying to write! This chapter is short because it's just a preview of the full chapter! I wanted to see who would be interested in this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Preview: Chapter .5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone! I've decided to start an Undertale fanfiction I've been dying to write! This chapter is short because it's just a preview of the full chapter! I wanted to see who would be interested in this.</p><p> I can't decide if I should make this a multiverse reader insert, or just the UT! Bros. Any suggestions?<br/>Trigger Warnings: Self Harm, Abuse, and Eating Disorder mentions (Graphic-ish)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            A thin streak is summoned across your wrist, blood quickly shaping through the shallow cut. You make three more cuts in quick succession, appreciating the sting of pain that they bring with them. Your brittle hands shake as you switch arms, going from your left to your right. Pulling up the sleeve of your black hoodie, you slowly begin dragging the blade up and down your wrist, alternating between horizontal and vertical swipes.</p><p>            “Just one more cut,” You whisper. Your throat is sore form not using it often. You look down at the many cuts littering your (s/c) skin, cringing at the sight. You are better. You are supposed to be better. It’s been months since your last “episode;” you blew that out the window, however.</p><p>            You step out of your boyfriend’s bedroom, darting to the end of the hall and making a left into the master bathroom. He’ll throttle you if he finds out you cut in his room. He doesn’t want your “nasty blood dripping everywhere.”</p><p>            After closing and locking the door, you sigh, slowly falling to the ground. Thinking back on the fight you and Blake had, it’s a miracle that he didn’t try to kick you out or threaten beating you again.</p><p>            <em>“Y/N,” grumbles your boyfriend of three years, Blake. His dark doe-shaped eyes fall onto your shriveled form in a harsh glare. You, in response, clutch tighter to the wrapper full of two whole pop tarts. You wish that, for once in your life, he would let you eat outside of his “diet plan” for you. You haven’t eaten in two days and you’re hungry, damn it! </em></p><p>
  <em>            You whimper when he calls your name again, albeit softer this time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            “Y/N, we’ve talked about this,” he starts, gripping onto your arm where he knows the cuts are. A quiet gasp leaves your lips. “You can’t have pop tarts, babe. You’ve come so far! You almost at ninety-six pounds! Don’t you want to be pretty for me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            You honestly don’t know what you want right now, but you do know that you’re hungry as shit, and he’s in the way of you eating those pop tarts. You can’t think of anything to say? Are you seriously this scared? This is Blake! Your boyfriend! He only wants what’s best for you…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            It seems that he took you silent contemplation as disagreeing with him, because the next thing you know, you’re on the ground and his knee is digging into your spine. You gasp as your back contorts, trying to compensate and bend with his knee, popping in the process. His hands clutch onto your shoulders, forcing them to bend upwards against the pressure on your back. Your body starts to seize at the contact, trying to remove the source of the pain, but he forces more of his bodyweight onto you, making you cry out in response. You freeze when you register his next words. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            “I could fucking kill you right now! Did you know that? I think you know that.” His hand move from your shoulders to your throat, giving it a quick squeeze. “And nobody’s gonna care because you have no one- I repeat, no one- besides me!” His grip on your throat starts to tighten; you can’t help it when you screech, shaking as the pain starts to increase.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            He’s right, you think. You know he’s right. You have no family anymore. You chose Blake over them, for some god awful reason. You’ll never regret anything more than that, you muse.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            “B-Bl-Blake,” You wheeze. It’s getting harder to breath, you notice. “Blake, please! I’m sorry I-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“God! Just shut up! You’re so annoying! Don’t make any fucking excuses, fat ass!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I-I’m sor-sorry, Blake!” Your vision is beginning to fade around the edges.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s not what I told you to call me,” he smirks, “is it, Y/N?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In all honesty, you couldn’t focus on him. It’s really hard to breath, and your body’s fighting for the need of fresh air. By some miracle, you understood what he wants you to do.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“S-Sir,” you wheeze out, you voice barely reaching his ears, “please sto-op. I p-promise I’ll neve-er do it aga-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your voice is interrupted by a harsh cough, widening your airway and choking you more simultaneously. God, just let this stop!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He immediately takes his now red hands off your throat and it’s like you’ve been born all over again. You take in as much air as you can manage before harsh coughing racks your body.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When you look up with clouded vision- when did it become so hard to see? You observe a gentle smile on his face. He reaches out and pets your hair, softly looking down to your abused throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His eyes widen when he sees the newly formed bruises stare back at him defiantly, as if they know where they came from. His eyes become glossy as he gently strokes the hand print on your neck, making you hiss. “Babe! Look what you made me do! Your poor neck. Why can’t you just listen to me? It’ll be so much easier on me: I hate seeing you hurt like this.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You basically cower as he continues to rub his hand on the bruise. You wish you never took the dumb pop tarts.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He pulls you into his lap, still petting the purple hands tattooed on your skin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Si-sir, I have a question, if I may ask it,” you softly uttered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His deep eyes glance at yours, “Of course, babe. Anything.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You sigh, relaxing into his hold. “C-Could we maybe… perhaps… stop getting pop tarts? Seeing them makes me crave sweets, and I want to try my best to be perfect for you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At his hardened gaze, you quickly correct yourself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But, if you don’t want to then that’s perfectly fine, sir! I understand your make the money, so you can get whatever you please!” Your voice sounds yippy from the anxiety and fear coursing through your veins.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You know what you said in that moment was for his sake, not yours. But, a small, forgotten part of your mind can’t help but agree with you.  His charming smile widens at your question and obvious fear, and his head bobs slightly up and down, insinuating that you-thankfully- said the right thing.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“I knew you could do it! Look at you, already wanting to get rid of your favorite food! And you still have 22 more pounds to go!”  You simply smile and nod your head, not wanting to make him anymore angry than he already is.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Still smiling, he gets up and heads for the door, not forgetting to grab the box of pop tarts before closing and locking it. Your eyes glare at the floor once you hear the sound of a deadbolt locking from the other side. He must’ve been pissed if he locked that. How badly did he want to keep you in?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You can feel your eye’s tearing up. No! You don’t want to cry! You’re not weak like Blake thinks you are. There’s no reason to cry when he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You start crying anyway before you could reel in your emotions. This was his worst episode in a while. Will he be upset when he realizes I still have two pop tarts? You laugh, yet no emotion but despair reaches through it. He’s going to fucking kill me over two pop tarts!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You quickly chuck the pop tarts on the counter top. That’s the safest place for them, at the moment. You don’t want him thinking you were hiding them by putting them back in the pantry or in your pocket, and you can’t leave them on the floor, he’d destroy you! You sure as hell aren’t eating the bastards. No matter how hungry you were, eating those things after what happened could very well be your last meal on death row if you choose to defy him.</em>
</p><p>            You shiver as you think back on today’s “argument,” as Blake likes to call them. What if you ate the pop tarts before you left the pantry? He would’ve never known, then. You’d be Scott free and a few dozen less cuts, ha. Still, you think that’s the most you’ve gotten physically hurt, though. He’s getting worse and worse as the days drag on. How will I escape at this rate?!</p><p>You take off your hoodie, exposing the (f/c) tank top underneath. You get a rag and clean off the cuts before slowly applying the bandages. You think these cuts won’t scar since you made them so shallow, cutting just deep enough to draw blood…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Good NEws (Update)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Quick update, don't worry it's good news!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I'm finally working on chapter 2!!! It will be up tomorrow, sorry for the wait but college is a bitch ;P</p><p>Thanks for being so patient! I didn't expect more than 3 people to read this, ahh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!<br/>Please, give me constructive criticism or a sign that you would love to read more of this if your interested!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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